


Love Amongst Modern Art

by xXdreameaterXx



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-05-04 20:39:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5347790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xXdreameaterXx/pseuds/xXdreameaterXx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Darling,” he pants, “Watch the statues!”<br/>You just can't find that part of you that cares about the silly (ugly) statues that might tip over right now, not when you want him this much. THIS IS TRASH. You have been warned. Caecilius/Reader. I saw the post on Tumblr and wrote it for that person.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Amongst Modern Art

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RebelDrFerguson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RebelDrFerguson/gifts).



> In my defence, I saw the Tumblr post by RebelDrFerguson and it was 3 am and I thought "ah, what the hell" so here it is. Hope you like it. But seriously, it's trash.

“Darling,” he pants, “Watch the statues!”  
You just can't find that part of you that cares about the silly (ugly) statues that might tip over right now, not when you want him this much. The journey to Rome has been too damn long and the cobblestone streets that made the carriage wobble have put you in exactly the right mood. You crush your lips against his in a passionate kiss and pull his body closer to your own. Caecilius may resist, but little Caecilius already seems very. . . alert.   
“The kids,” he mumbles against your lips, “Might hear.”  
With a groan you push his flustered face away. “They know how they were made, honey.”  
That seems to have convinced him. Caecilius' hands take you by the hips and push you – away from the statue, can't risk it falling over – against the wall. You reach down to grab his robes and pull him up. No underwear. How convenient.   
Yet when you take him by the shaft to guide him he gives you _that_ look. That shy, flustered, embarrassed look. You roll your eyes and let him go.  
Hurrying over to where you have been standing just a minute ago, you pick up the sheet from the floor. One second later the statue is covered with it.  
“You know,” you say, “Just cause they have eyes doesn't mean they can actually see us.”  
Caecilius shrugs with that boyish smile on his face. “You never know.”  
The next thing you know is that you find yourself pressed against the wall again and his hungry lips are on your neck, nipping that one spot that always gets you off. He may be a modern art loving idiot, but he is your modern art loving idiot and you love him, especially when he . . .  
“Oh yes,” you utter as the tip of his erection presses against your wet folds.   
Caecilius picks you up and you throw your legs and arms around him for support as he slides deep inside you with a throaty groan. Your back hits the wall in the rhythm of his thrusts and you suspect that you are going to have a few bruises tomorrow but damn, it really has been long and he is fucking away every ounce of concern you hold. You open your eyes to look at him and you're not sure whether you're turned on or amused. His face is distorted in pleasure, his mouth open, forming an O but apart from a few grunts no sound comes out. He's close but so are you. You clench your walls around him and moan as he drives harder inside of you and every cell in your body can feel it coming.  
“Harder,” you urge him feebly and he gives it to you until your orgasm comes crashing down on you and you can feel him spilling himself inside of you. Caecilius stops inside you for a moment and mutters your name between his ragged breaths before he carefully slides out and sets you down on the floor.   
“Well, that's done,” you pant, “First room of the new house inaugurated.”  
Caecilius doesn't seem to have heard you.  
“You know what?” he says, “I think the statue might look better in that corner over there.”  
He points to the other side and you grab hold of his hand.   
“You know what I think,” you replay with a smirk, “I think the statues can wait until tomorrow and I also think there is a bed desperately waiting to be tested properly.”   
Caecilius grins at you and follows your lead into the bedroom.


End file.
